In a week where I’ve been struggling to balance work and life, a week where I’ve not had a moment to sit down, a week where I’ve worried that my depression is coming back, I’m grateful for days like this.
Days with toy cars.
Days warn emough for David to run around in a nappy and a t-shirt. (Mostly because, well, have you ever TRIED to put trousers and socks on my wriggly fifteen-month-old without a screaming fit?)
Days with zebra-print Blueberry Side Snap nappies.
Days with startled cats.
Days when fifteen-month-olds decide they’d like to sleep in the carrycot they outgrew nine months ago, when they climb in, snuggle down, and fall asleep without any parental input.
Days with striped trousers.
Days with trips to the park.
Days with curls like these.
Days with blue skies and bright sunshine, when it’s warm enough to not need a coat for the first time this year.
Days with lots and lots of cuddles.
Apologies for the photo post again, there will be a proper written one at some point. Maybe. If the world doesn’t end before I finish this project.
Today is Eric’s birthday. He’s turning one.
This is Eric just after we first met him:
Nine months ago, when we’d finally managed to bring him home, he looked like this:
At Christmas, post Christmas Tree-destroying mission with his friend Charlie, he looked like this:
And now? This.
He’s evolved from a fuzzball who didn’t stop purring to a much bigger fuzzball who, erm, doesn’t stop purring. He’s now the feline equivalent of a fourteen-year-old boy, all hormones and “look at me, I’m in charge” with the other two cats, but he’s such a soppy Mummy’s boy with me. He has perfected the art of poking Snowball so that she hisses at him but doesn’t hurt him, and he’s started challenging Wily’s authority: I’m looking forward to seeing who’s going to end up as The Boss.
So, Happy Birthday, Mr Half-a-bee, and here’s to many more to come.
This is a blog post for The Gallery at Sticky Fingers. Go and have a look!
After a day like today, with tantrum after tantrum, a massive effort to organise things so we can actually find them, 24 hours with a stinky toddler in cloth nappies and no washing machine, and enough work that I’ll have to pull an all-nighter at some point this week…
… beauty is in peace.
But then again, it’s also in feeling smug that I’ve finally sorted out the nappies. And they look awesome.